I leave Buenos Aires at 20.30. This partucular bus comes with free entertainment (or tedium, depending on how you look at it) - a tone deaf Argentine teenager who insists on singing (I'm being generous there) along to his portable CD player. When even my own music can´t drown him out I am forced to lean over and say, ' Excuse me, can you sing in your head please, I don´t want to listen to your music.' It works. The official entertainment comes in the slightly inappropriate form, in my opinion, of two films about transport catastrophes - Flight 93 (about 9/11) and Poseidon. The former is, frankly, not what you need to be seeing when a world away from everyone you love, and hurtling down a dark Argentine highway in the middle of nowhere. Finally,
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